


Second chances are for demons

by everythingremainsconnected



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Season/Series 03, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 19:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16165838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingremainsconnected/pseuds/everythingremainsconnected
Summary: Purgatory is empty and the demons might be in the next town over... Wynonna catches an impossible glimpse of a certain demon on TV and chases him down, hoping against hope for some answers.





	Second chances are for demons

It was hard to know if Purgatory itself was frozen or not. There was no preggo eggo to hint at how much time might have actually passed. Days - probably weeks - had gone by in some low rent version of Groundhog Day, with the added torture of knowing the rest of the world was continuing on just fine. Purgatory was empty as shit and Wynonna, always casual with acceptable drinking times, was pouring the second whiskey of the day. Purgatory time might have possibly frozen but daytime TV was timeless – in the worst possible way.

“Has Hope had the baby yet?” Nedley creaked into the chair next to Wynonna. They’d taken to hiding out at the Homestead. The empty land was normal and a lot less disturbing than a completely empty town. Nedley’s dedication to his TV, and his ‘stories’, meant that the flatscreen sitting awkwardly on Wynonna’s living room floor was his best friend. 

“Not yet. She’s only been pregnant for like, a week,” Wynonna said. 

“Isn’t that three months in show time?” 

Wynonna sipped her drink. “Don’t talk to me about time.” 

Nedley hmphed his agreement. His martini was half full, rapidly on the way empty, but there was definitely enough to choke on when a news promo flashed across the screen. “Hnngfft!” 

Wynonna stared at him, brows high. “You’re way too ol – _worldly_ – to be choking on your first martini of the day.” 

“Smooth, Wynonna,” Nedley coughed. 

“As smooth as this whiskey,” Wynonna gloated and took a sip before glancing at the screen. She spat her drink across the living room. “What the _hell?_ ” 

“What a waste of good whiskey.” 

“You saw that right? You saw him?” 

“Bobo Del Rey, playing at local news special feature? I don’t think that’s the sort of thing a man could hallucinate.” 

“Never say never,” Wynonna muttered. “That town… that’s still in the Triangle, right?” Nedley nodded and Wynonna grinned. “So let’s go.” 

“You know as well as I do that it’s illegal to drink and drive.” 

“And that’s why you’re driving.” Wynonna grinned and took a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle. “I wanna know how the hell he managed to stick around this shithole when everyone else…” 

“Me, too. Let’s find that bespeckled son of a bitch.” 

“I got supplies.” Wynonna buckled Doc’s gun holster around her hip before picking up the half empty bottle of whiskey. 

Nedley held up his phone and smiled at Wynonna’s rolling eyes. “I got the tunes.” 

“Why did you have to figure out online music _now?_ ” 

“No time like the present, or whatever the hell this time is. C’mon.” 

*

_You could have been better._

Every night, it was the same phrase driving him to his knees. It wounded as it whispered and he fought to wake up, fought to escape the bitter disappointment. He sat up, gasping, blinking rapidly against the sudden light and inevitable blur of the room. 

Robert reached for his wire rimmed glasses and sighed as the room came into focus. _His_ room. It had been a couple of weeks and Rosita seemed to like him well enough. She tolerated him, at least. Robert knew enough to see that she was drowning in secrets and supposed that his appearance, explained away by distant family connections, was barely a dint in her burden. 

When he’d stumbled into town, the only thing Robert knew about himself was that he wanted to help. No name, no memory of family or friends, nothing about who he was or how he’d come to lie in a ditch by the side of the road. Rosita found him, patched him up – somehow he’d hurt his back, badly, and the bandages were on for weeks – and named him. 

_You definitely look like a Robert to me,_ she’d said with half a smile. There were secrets in her eyes but it wasn’t his business to know them. 

The name stuck, as did Robert himself. Once he could move without wanting to scream in pain, Robert started helping. Repairing a loose stair, replacing taps, uncovering and disposing of the mysterious smell in the garage; but after a while, it wasn’t enough. Robert went along to Rosita’s school, where she taught unruly teenagers, and worked alongside her to ready the grounds for some fundraising event. 

Rosita spied the news cameras and tried to move them both out of the shot. Robert assumed she was afraid of being found… something about her screamed _hiding_. He didn’t know enough to fear anything except his dreams. 

*

Never having been one to blend in, Wynonna was almost used to the rubbernecking stares of the locals. What she wasn’t used to was having a dad-like figure in a Hawaiian shirt ambling along beside her. It should have been Waverly and Doc and _Dolls_ and even Captain Uptight No-Fun-Unless-She-Was-Drinking-Nicole… Wynonna’s heart raced, her mouth went pasty and she swallowed quickly to keep the vomit in. A mouthful of whiskey definitely helped with the vomit thing, but not at all with the people staring thing. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Wynonna snarled. 

“Drinking in public is not helping our low profile plan,” Nedley said quietly. 

“Neither’s that shirt but you don’t hear me complaining.” 

“You complained the entire way here.” 

“That’s because there’s only so many times a girl can listen to John Cougar Mellencamp in a row and it’s _zero_. Zero times, Nedley. Jot that down.” Wynonna peered through the crowds, scanning for Bobo. In the frame she’d seen on TV, he’d had longer hair in some sort of bun. If Wynonna hadn’t been sick with nerves, and probably whiskey, she’d laugh at the thought of demon king Bobo Del Rey with a man bun. 

“You hungry? They’ve got corndogs for a dollar.” 

“Yeah, sure. Corndogs.” Wynonna turned around and saw a whole lotta not-Bobo. “What is this? What’s Bobo got to do with some – some school fair?” 

Nedley handed Wynonna a corndog and talked around his mouthful of food. “Signs on the way in said fundraising fair. Never seen a fair in Purgatory this busy.” 

“That’s coz the Purgatory fairs come with a bonus side of demons. It’s enough to put people off their corndogs.” 

“That’s true.” Nedley played the shambling worldly man beside Wynonna as they wandered through the seas of people. Wynonna gripped Nedley’s arm tightly and Nedley almost choked on the last of his corndog. “You mind?” 

“There he is,” Wynonna whispered, transfixed. 

Bobo was walking slowly but something about his regular predatory stalk was gone. Little glasses perched on his nose and he smiled – actually smiled – at the vendor who served him a box of popcorn. Bobo was every inch a regular guy in his jeans and old-man tweed coat with suede elbow patches. He could have been a hipster professor or a beekeeper or… something tragically, disgustingly normal. 

“Why is everyone staring at me?” Wynonna asked Nedley quietly. “I’m just a badass with a great ass. And great hair. He’s a demon, Nedley. _A demon_. How can they not see that?” 

Nedley was staring just as hard. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was some sort of… accountant. A hipster one. He looks so damn normal.” 

“There’s no such thing as hipster accountants.” 

“There’s no such thing as hipster demons.” 

Wynonna cracked half a smile as her fingers itched for her guns. “What’s he _doing_ here?” 

“He’s on the move. You follow, I’ll cut him off behind the tater tots stand. Don’t shoot anyone,” Nedley warned before he headed for the tater tots. 

“I shoot whoever I want,” Wynonna muttered. The woman beside her glared and Wynonna glared right back. “Not _you_. Unless you’re a demon.” The woman looked genuinely fearful as she scurried off and Wynonna dropped her head. “Yeah, that was on me.” 

Wynonna didn’t want to lose Bobo and hurried after him. She needn’t have worried; tall demons with bad hair stuck out like tits on a bull. He was taking no precautions at all and at the back of her mind Wynonna was stunned. Some two-street town in the Triangle was almost guaranteed to have some spooky supernatural shit going on – other than the obvious demon in desperate need of a haircut. 

Bobo all but ran into Nedley behind the tater tots tent and stopped short. “Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there.” 

“Cut the shit, Bobo. What are you doing here?” 

“Excuse me?” 

Wynonna cocked her gun and aimed it at Bobo. She took a bite of her corndog and smiled. “Miss me? Coz I won’t miss you, not from this close.” 

“What is going on? Who are you people?” He dropped the popcorn and put his hands up, blue eyes far too wide. 

“Nedley and I would _really_ like to know exactly what’s going on here.” 

“Me, too,” Bobo said with way too much conviction. “Do you know me? Do you know my name?” 

Wynonna was speechless. Briefly. “You’re Bobo Del Rey, Wannabe Lord of the Flies of Purgatory and the man who tried to kill me and mine. A few times. And then I did kill you, but only once. The ‘well’ thing doesn’t count and that wasn’t even me anyway.” Bobo still looked completely blank and Wynonna sighed, frustrated. “What do you want me to do, dress in drag and recite your resume?” 

“You _killed_ me?” 

“It was only once! And you deserved it!” Wynonna steadied her aim and refocused, tossing the corndog to the ground. “Since when do you need glasses?” 

“I’ve always had them,” Bobo said softly. “I’m blind as a bat without them.” 

Wynonna scoffed. “You did just fine without them all these years. Whatever. What’s your deal, Bobo? How are you still here when everyone else from Purgatory is…n’t?” 

“Purgatory? Like the Biblical sense?” 

Wynonna’s brain finally caught onto the signals her eyes kept seeing. Bobo was hunched, he shoved his glasses up his nose, his eyes were still so damn wide… “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? Seriously no idea?” 

“Wynonna?” Nedley looked between the two of them. “Is he for real?” 

“Real as anything around here,” Wynonna muttered. Her gun remained cocked and aimed. “This looks _exactly_ like Peacemaker, he’s got no way out, and he’s looking at me like I’m just trying to steal his wallet. Like some kind of entry-level mugger.” Wynonna caught a confused look from Bobo and continued, “oh I’d totally steal your wallet, but you deserve to get robbed. You’re a bad guy, Bobo.” 

Bobo flinched like he’d been hit. “But… I don’t… I don’t understand. I just want to help. I just want to _help_. What are you saying?” 

“You have no idea who you are?” Nedley asked. 

“I… I’m Robert. My name is Robert and I… I fix things, I help people. I’m a good man.” 

Wynonna slowly lowered her gun. Her eyes burned. Bobo shrunk in on himself and for a long, painful moment Wynonna saw Robert Svane, who had actually been a good man once. A man who had believed in angels. “Maybe if things were different? If the universe wasn’t so damn cruel… maybe you could have been better.” 

Bobo reeled, gasping. “How – how could you know?” 

“Know what?” 

“My _dreams_ ,” Bobo whispered, getting close to Wynonna. “Every night, I have the same dream. A woman tells me _I could have been better_ and then my face feels like I’m on fire and I wake up. Her voice is… heavenly, but it hurts. Her words burn me to my core _every night_. It feels like I’m dying but then– I wake up.” 

“Waverly,” Wynonna breathed. 

Bobo’s face lit up with the spark of memory. “ _My angel_.” He drew closer still to Wynonna as the knowledge faded. “Who is Waverly?” 

“The one who set you free.” Wynonna swallowed back the tears. “She set you free, Bobo. Sorry, _Robert_. Ain’t that just a kick to the goddamn teeth. She set you free while she’s in – in I don’t even know where – and _we_ ,” she sniffed, “we are trapped. But you, demon, you get to try again. Go figure.” 

“She saved me, more than once,” Bobo said slowly. His hand came up in a familiar lilting gesture and Wynonna raised her gun again. “You said she’s trapped?” 

Nedley saw Wynonna struggle for words and cleared his throat. “Something took her. And Doc. And the whole town is just empty. We don’t know why.” 

“Something took my angel?” Bobo snarled. 

“Watch who you’re calling angel, pal. She’s _my_ sister. Not yours. Not your anything.” 

“Wrong, Wynonna,” Bobo said in a sing-song kind of way. It was only a bit creepy. “She is my kin just as much as she is yours and we _will_ find her. I’m coming with you.” 

“And how do we know we can trust you? I wrote most of your rap sheet myself. I wouldn’t trust you to piss on a wall.” Nedley scowled. 

Bobo growled faintly. “Because of her I am truly free to choose, and I choose her. Always. I was a good man once, and… and I will be again.” 

Wynonna smirked. “What do you say, Nedley?” 

Without a second of hesitation, Nedley nodded. “There ain’t nothin’ else to lose. You don’t count, Wynonna. You’re like a cockroach, you’ll survive anything.” 

“Aw, shucks, you say the sweetest things,” Wynonna said. She lowered her gun. “Come on, Bo – Robert. But I call shotgun.” 

Nedley didn’t quite smile as he looked Robert up and down. “I hope you hate country music. You’ve got so much John Cougar Mellencamp to catch up on.” 

“You got any jazz?” 

Wynonna shuddered. “I’d prefer Mellencamp.” 

“I don’t know who that is.” 

“Today’s your lucky day.” 

Robert smirked. “I’ll have to trust you. Can we make a stop on the way outta here? I have to tell Rosita I’m leaving.” 

“ _Rosita?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Bobo ain't dead and I refuse to give up on him :') I'm on [tumblr](http://sugarpenchant.tumblr.com/) if you wanna say hi!


End file.
